Whose Blood Is This, Anyway?
by stillvintage55
Summary: What makes fighting in a war worthwhile for those who do the fighting? The realities of death and destruction can make you lose sight of why you're doing this in the first place.


**Whose Blood Is This, Anyway?**

 **(Rat Patrol Fanfic by stillvintage55)**

The last couple of months had been difficult for the Rat Patrol. Yes, they were a highly trained "special operations" group, but the bloody reality of what was an inseparable part of their missions had slammed the four Rats, both physically and mentally. As fit and skilled as they were, they were also exhausted. Their stoic driver, Tully Pettigrew, had been cleared to return to full duty much too soon after two serious wounds that had required surgical intervention. As the fighting against the Afrika Corp intensified, anyone who could walk, talk, and shoot did not linger long in the hospital tents. Tully was suffering the most, and characteristically refused to admit it, but he was not alone: Troy was increasingly impatient and angry, Hitch was much too quiet (from a usually talkative 20-year old), and Moffitt was trying very hard to maintain his own equilibrium as he tried to give extra support to the three others.

It was early on a Sunday morning when the four Rats were called to Captain' Boggs' office. They stepped into the tent, eyes adjusting to the lower light levels inside. They saluted, and then were told to sit down.

"Gentlemen, we've been given an important mission. We have intelligence that the German camp at Sidi Abd is hosting a leading German scientist. We're not sure what this guy is doing there, but we do know that he is believed to be leading a top-secret Nazi research team. His name is Josef Starck, and he is a civilian, approximately 50 years of age. We have an intelligence source several miles away from Sidi Abd. This agent will meet you 24 hours from now at this prearranged coordinate on the map I've just given to Sergeant Troy. He should be able to give you whatever further information you might need. Your mission is to find Starck, and either capture or kill him. Here is a fairly recent picture of him. You will leave here ASAP. Understood?"

Troy was frowning. "Captain, we're certainly used to killing German soldiers, but we've never had a mission that intentionally involved killing a civilian, right from the get-go."

"That's the mission Sergeant. You do have the alternative of getting Starck out of the camp and returning him here. Dismissed!" The Rats saluted and left Boggs' office.

Moffitt was frowning as they walked back to their own tent to retrieve supplies for the journey, having sent Tully and Hitch to the motor pool to get the jeeps ready to go.

"I don't like this one bit, Sam. Can we plan for a live capture first, with killing the poor man only as a last resort?"

Troy sighed, "Let's get out there first and see what will be involved in getting that man out of there alive…but, if we can't do that, our next best option will have to be shooting the man.

Tully's the best long-distance shooter of the four of us. If we can get him within range, he should be able to do it."

"And if he doesn't want to do that, Sam?"

"He won't have much choice – he's the one most likely to make the shot on the first try, and the first try is probably all we'll have. Look, Jack, all I know is Tully's our best sniper, and he could do the job with a quick and deadly shot, with little or no suffering for Starck."

Noticing Moffitt's silence, Troy sighed, "Let's wait until we get near the camp itself. After we meet with our contact, if there's any way to get Starck out of there without getting some of us killed, I'll consider it. What I do know is that it is an SS facility, so no matter which way we end up getting this done, it's not going to be a piece of cake.

An hour later, Tully and Hitch had the jeeps gassed up, checked over, and ready to go. Tully gave both jeeps a final look-over. Sidi Abd was a full days ride from their own base and behind German lines. Tully was always meticulous about keeping the jeeps in top running condition – their lives depended on it. Hitch had restocked the ammo for the 50-calibers and their other weapons. Tully had packed their water and rations, and made sure the med kits for each jeep were fully stocked. He did not have a good feeling about this new mission.

As the two jeeps left the safety of their home base, Tully decided to voice his own concerns to Moffitt. "Doc, I know damn well if this mission comes down to shooting Starck, I'm probably going to be the designated shooter, and I just don't feel right about that. This guy's a civilian, and if I have to deliberately kill an unarmed civilian, that comes way too close to what the Nazis are doing all over Europe."

"I don't disagree with you, Tully, but we still have the option of getting Starck out of the camp alive. If it's at all possible, we will attempt to do that. But you are by far our best marksman with a rifle. Orders are orders and we have to do what we're told to do. I'm sorry. There are many ugly things that we have to do as soldiers. The deaths of innocent people have been a part of war since the ancient Romans roamed this land. Look at all of the innocent people, both German and Allied, who are dying in air raids! I can assure you that my 14-year old brother was a child, and his life is over, he'll never be 15 or 18, or 22 for that matter."

Tully sighed, "But where do we draw the line? Who is this agent guy we're supposed to meet? And for that matter, is this Starck guy really a big-shot Nazi scientist? What the hell is he doing at a Gestapo camp in Sidi Abd?" Moffitt heard the anger and frustration in Tully's voice, and suddenly could see the fatigue, pain, and anguish in the 22-year-old's face.

Moffitt had no ready answers for Tully's questions, fully aware that enlisted men like the Rat Patrol were told only what they absolutely had to know to complete their own missions. They rode in silence for the next half-hour.

Tully sighed, and finally broke the silence that was become more heavy by the minute. "Doc, I don't mean to make what we do more difficult than it already is. I guess I'm just getting tired of all the blood and guts, especially when it's been mine, lately."

Moffitt was aware that the Rat Patrol's missions were dangerous by definition; none of them had escaped entirely unscathed, mentally or physically. Tully had been seriously wounded twice in the past three months, and was only 10 days out of the hospital, with no leave or limited duty following several surgeries.

"Tully," he said quietly, "how are you feeling physically? And don't just say you're fine, because Troy and I are very concerned about you. Just because Medical cleared you doesn't mean that you are ready for full duty, but I know two things: you hate being in the hospital, once you're at all on the mend, and you tend to deny it when you do have pain."

Tully answered, "Yeah, but I guess I feel okay. My belly wound is all healed up, finally. My left leg is still stiff, but I can get around on it now. There's a few aches and pains, and I'm tired, but who isn't? I'll be fine."

Moffitt looked at Tully closely. "Will you really? Please listen to me, Tully. You are a very skilled soldier and a very caring friend to us all. I know that you like to come across as rough and tough sometimes, and sometimes, you are." But, I also know you to be a young man with wisdom beyond your years, and an innate sense of compassion and humor that you often try to hide under a bristly exterior. I am honored to be fighting with you, yes, but I am even more honored to know you. You worry over us like the good friend you are, always willing to listen and be there for us, no matter the circumstances. If Troy, Hitch, and I have any failings, it may be that we take you for granted. I'm afraid you have been too strong for too long. We need to take better care of you, because you are the glue that keeps us all going, and I'm not just talking about your mechanical skills."

"Thanks, Doc," Tully quietly said, eyes watering up, "but you're going to get me crying if you keep talking like that. Good thing we're almost there."

"There's nothing wrong with tears, Tully, even for grown men. Just keep us posted about how you're doing and how you're feeling – we don't all have your intuitive ability to sense what needs to be said or done. You'll make Charlie Marie a wonderful husband if your relationship keeps going in that direction. She absolutely adores you, you know, and you two are wonderful together."

"I really love her, Doc, I just hope I live long enough to marry her," said Tully.

When the Rat Patrol finally reached the designated place where they were to meet the unidentified agent, they found themselves at a small, derelict farmhouse, about two miles from the reported Gestapo camp. They carefully drove around the entire building, or what was left of it, but saw no signs of any recent activity.

"Well, this is it, I guess, if the map coordinates Captain Boggs gave us are correct," said Troy, "but I don't see any tracks or anyone around. Where's the agent we're supposed to meet? Moffitt, why don't you and Tully check the place out? Hitch and I will cover you with both 50-calibers from here."

Tully and Moffitt cautiously approached the building on foot. Moffitt stood guard at the entry door as Tully searched the interior. Tully didn't see anything right away, but did notice a very strong odor, much like that of a decaying body. He reached for his portable machine gun and warily looked around, already very familiar with that particular smell. He found the source of the odor under the remnants of the stairs – the corpse of a man whose body was full of bullet holes and dried blood, with half his skull blown away.

"Hey, Doc! You better get in here. I think that agent we're supposed to meet might not make the meeting. I've got a body here that looks to be a couple of days old."

Moffitt quickly searched the body for any paperwork, finally finding a note in the man's pocket with the same scribbled map coordinates the Rat Patrol had been given earlier. "Damn! Doesn't appear that he'll be of much help, does it, Tully? You stay here while I pick up our jeep and break the news to Troy and Hitch."

A few minutes later, the air was filled with explosions. German artillery was targeting the house and the entire area. Moffitt raced back toward the house, yelling at Tully to take cover. The shells were getting closer and closer. Moffitt dived into the sand, and saw that Troy and Hitch were racing away from the house in the other jeep, probably to loop around and re-approach the house from the rear. Moffitt kept screaming for Tully to get out of there, and saw him vacate the house just as one shell obliterated it. Tully was tossed into the air by the concussion, and landed in an unconscious heap 15 feet away from the rear of the now burning house.

Moffitt was unhurt, but stunned and dizzy. He raced over to Tully, whose clothes were smoldering and blood-stained. Moffitt searched frantically for a pulse, turning Tully onto his back and clearing sand from his face. His back was full of shrapnel, both metal and wood; Tully opened his eyes and screamed in pain as Moffitt moved him. He had flash burns on much of his exposed skin, and was coughing up soot and blood as he struggled to breathe. Moffitt smothered the burning clothes with more sand and was searching Tully's body for still more injuries when he noticed Tully was crying. Moffitt stroked Tully's face, quietly talking to him, but the look of horror and agony on Tully's face did not go away. Moffitt did not see any sign of Troy and Hitch yet, but soon heard the unmistakable sound of a German halftrack approaching them. Three German soldiers and an SS officer walked toward them, weapons already drawn. A horrible day had just become worse.

When Troy and Hitch approached the gutted house, the German halftrack was leaving the scene; Troy initially thought to attack the halftrack, but then saw that Moffitt and Tully were already on board. "Sarge," said Hitch, "what do we do now?"

"We swing wide and get nearer to the SS camp. It looks like Tully's hurt pretty bad, so we can't do much until he and Moffitt are at that camp…Hopefully, that's where they're heading."

The journey to the SS (Gestapo) camp did not take long. As Tully was carried off the halftrack, the SS Captain Hans Gruber told Moffitt, "We have no medical facility at this camp, as our prisoners generally do not last long here. We will give you food and water so you may give your wounded man a small measure of comfort. Unfortunately, we will not give you any painkillers, as that just prolongs the agony for most of our clientele. I'm sure you understand; the Gestapo are not a luxury outfit and we do not coddle anyone."

Moffitt and Tully were locked into a very small cell, containing two cots, no blankets, no pillows, a small sink, a toilet, and a hanging light that was left on twenty-four hours a day.

Their prison guard told them that they would have one meal a day, and were scheduled to be interrogated the next day. As soon as the guard resumed his patrol route, Moffitt rushed over to Tully, giving him some small sips of water. Moffitt took off his own jacket and folded it into a pillow of sorts, placing it under Tully's head. He found a handkerchief in one of Tully's pockets, wet it down with water, and gently tried to clean him up a bit as he catalogued his injuries.

Tully had the shrapnel injuries in his back and one leg, flash burns from the blast on his exposed skin, and he was still coughing up bloody sputum, probably from the effect of the explosion on his lungs. He was heavily bruised all over, had a large gash on the back of his head, and his blond hair was singed, as his helmet had been blown off.

Moffitt continued to quietly talk to Tully, not sure how long he would live, when he noticed that Tully's eyes had just opened. "Doc, my back is killing me." Tears were again rolling down his face, but the fact that he recognized Moffitt and could still talk to him was at least one positive indication that his brain was okay. Moffitt carefully rolled Tully from his back to his side, letting his body lean against the cell wall.

"Tully, we don't have any pain medication to give you, but you might be more comfortable if I can get some of that shrapnel out of your back. There's quite a lot of it, but I think I can remove the bigger pieces with my fingers, as we have no instruments, either. This needs to happen soon, so you don't get an infection, but it's going to be very painful and quite bloody for you, I'm afraid. Do you think you're strong enough, or would you rather wait until tomorrow morning?"

Tully grimaced, "It's killing me already, Doc. Just go ahead and do what you have to do." Tully sat up on the cot, elbows on his knees and hands holding his forehead.

Two hours later, Moffitt had removed as much of the shrapnel as he could, as Tully groaned through the smaller pieces and screamed as the larger and deeper pieces were extracted, finally slipping into a merciful stupor. He could only hope that Tully would survive, although Moffitt did notice that Tully's breathing already seemed better.

The next morning, Tully was awake and alert, still in serious pain, but much improved from the previous day. "Hey, Doc, you did a good job on my back. Thank you. Are you doing okay?"

"Much better today, Tully. Now, let's wait and see if Troy and Hitch can help us get out of here."

A few minutes later, a guard brought in their one meal for the day – a slice of dry bread and a small cup of ersatz coffee. SS Captain Gruber appeared a few minutes later. "Well, now that you've had your breakfast, I believe it's time we began your interrogations. You can both come together so you can watch the fun, gentlemen. By the way, that dead body you found out at that house was the Jewish scientist Josef Starck. When we found out he had made contact with the Allies, we decided to use him as bait to capture the Rat Patrol. It worked quite well, don't you think," he smirked.

"That explains a lot," Tully whispered to Moffitt, earning both of them the captain's billy club jabbed into their bellies. "Must be the stale toast," muttered Tully through clenched teeth, as Moffitt vomited his breakfast. "Wasn't very good, anyway, Doc."

The interrogation room was at the other end of the building. There were the usual tables and chairs, as well as a large and highly visible collection of whips, cudgels, and other instruments of torture. Captain Gruber shoved Tully toward a wall with handcuff rings embedded into the cement, and quickly cuffed both of Tully's hands to the rings. Gruber then tore the already bloody shirt right off of Tully's back. "My, my, Private! Your back looks like it is quite the sight to see! Perhaps some caresses from our whips could pretty it up even more so!" Tully saw the guards each taking a leather whip from the collection, and he saw Moffitt bound and gagged to a chair nearby as the whipping began. Tully grunted his way through the first dozen lashes, but was screaming in pain when the guards switched to heavier whips and began whipping his chest and legs as well as his back. When he was finally released from the cuffs, he fainted and collapsed on a floor already speckled with his own blood.

Moffitt was badly beaten up by both guards, who ended their round by breaking several of the fingers on his left hand. Before they could continue, the alarms sounded in the building, and Tully woke up and heard a 50-caliber machine gun firing outside. He yelled to Moffitt, "Hey, Doc, rise and shine! I think we've got company!" The doors flew open and a couple of bursts from Troy's automatic rifle mowed down Gruber and both guards. Hitch raced over to Tully and Moffitt, helped them to their feet, then helped them into the waiting jeep. Troy was driving the second jeep, throwing hand grenades between bursts from the automatic. As both jeeps raced through the gate, Tully heard more explosions wreaking havoc in the rest of the now-burning SS camp. Hitch yelled to Tully that he and Troy had rigged up explosives with timers before going after Tully and Moffitt. The entire camp was in shambles, and the few remaining German troops did not pursue the two jeeps as they began their journey back to their own lines.

The Rat Patrol stopped at an oasis after driving for three hours. Troy wanted to see how his men were doing. Moffitt was quite beat up, but seemed otherwise okay; Tully was bloody and obviously still in pain, but he was smiling. The two of them told Troy and Hitch about the sad fate of scientist Josef Starck, who was the dead man they had found in the falling-down farmhouse. "Yeah, poor Starck was an agent for the Allies, but the Gestapo got wind of it and decided to use him to catch us," said Tully. "He was used by the Gestapo to try to capture us, especially once they found out he was Jewish and already working undercover for the Allies. Poor guy never stood a chance," said Tully sadly.

When the Rat Patrol returned to their home base the next day, Tully was hospitalized once again, this time to have his back sutured and his other injuries assessed and treated. Moffitt was treated and released. As the three other Rats and Tully's girlfriend Charlie gathered around Tully's hospital bed, Tully was feeling very grateful. Yes, he had been through a lot already, and the war was still a long way from being over. But, he had friends here and plenty of family back home who loved and cared for him, and made sure he realized that. The tragedy of Josef Starck's life was a constant reminder of what would happen if the Axis forces won the war. Evil such as that which now existed in Germany had to stopped. No matter how much blood, sweat, and tears it cost him and all the other Allied forces, it was worth it.

_ THE END _


End file.
